


It Takes Two To Thaw

by redex_writes



Category: A Way Out (Video Game)
Genre: Accidental Voyeurism, Blow Jobs, Confessions, Dirty Talk, Don't read this oh my god, Dry Humping, Embarrassment, Getting Together, Grinding, Hand Jobs, Huddling For Warmth, Kinda, M/M, One Shot, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Sharing Body Heat, Sleeping Bag Sex, Smut, Spooning, Voice Kink, briefly, complete and utter filth, get ready for the tropes, i spent way too long trying to name this and ended up with this title, literally why did i write this, sort of??
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-30
Updated: 2021-01-30
Packaged: 2021-03-16 05:13:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,506
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29076903
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/redex_writes/pseuds/redex_writes
Summary: “The sleeping bag. We can share it.”Leo’s quiet for a second. When Vincent looks over, he’s giving him a funny look that he can’t quite place; somewhere between suspicious and hesitant.“You want to sleep in the same sleeping bag.”“I don’twantto,” Vincent snaps, exasperated. “But I’m not sleeping on the bare ground, so unless you want to, then we share. Final offer, take it or leave it.”
Relationships: Leo Caruso/Vincent Moretti
Comments: 6
Kudos: 59





	It Takes Two To Thaw

“You’re kidding me.”

Vincent grits his teeth, barely managing to keep himself from snapping at Leo. They’ve been walking all day, stumbling through thick brush away from the truck they had to abandon, tripping over rocks and roots and each other; they’re both tired, sore, and at the end of their ropes. As much as he wants to, yelling at each other won’t solve anything; so he speaks calmly, coolly.

“I know it’s hard for you to understand, but not everything is a joke.”

Leo scoffs.

“No shit--you wouldn’t know a joke if it came up and kicked you in the balls.”

Vincent rolls his eyes. “Classy, Leo.”

Leo gestures to the sleeping bag strapped to Vincent’s back in disgust.

“And _this_ is classy? You taking the only sleeping bag we’ve got in the middle of the goddamn woods?”

“It wouldn’t be our only sleeping bag if _you_ would be careful for once in your life.” Vincent pokes Leo hard in the centre of his chest, Leo scowling and slapping his hand away.

“It was an accident, okay? It’s not like I wanted to drop my shit in the river.”

“Well, you did,” Vincent says sharply, turning away and unrolling the sleeping bag onto the ground. “ _You_ weren’t watching where you were going. _You_ were trying to pick a fight with me instead of paying attention. _You_ get to sleep on the dirt.”

Leo shakes his head. “Un-fucking-believable.”

Vincent watches him from the corner of his eye, pretending to rifle through his near-empty backpack as Leo lowers himself to the ground with a grunt. He does feel a little bad--it’s been getting cold at night, and they had to leave behind everything they couldn’t comfortably carry when the truck broke down, and it really isn’t Leo’s fault--but it’s not enough to make him give up their only functional sleeping bag.

They try to make a fire, using the least-damp sticks and leaves they can scrounge up. Vincent fishes the food they’ve got left out of his bag, splitting a portion of it between them and tucking away the rest. He gives Leo the bigger portion, and Leo gives him a suspicious look before taking it without comment.

It’s reminiscent of when they first went on the run--sleeping in the middle of the wilderness with next-to-nothing, unsure of where they’ll end up once they make it out. This time however, the crippling weight of Vincent’s lie is gone, replaced by a sort of vulnerability that he hasn’t felt before. Leo knows who he is, what he’s done--knows more about him than maybe anyone else in his life.

And he’s still here.

Vincent sighs, turning over the hunk of bread in his hands. After a few minutes of listening to their fire crackle weakly, he speaks up.

“We can share.”

Leo looks over, makes a questioning sound around a mouthful of bread. Vincent closes his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose and willing himself to be patient.

“The sleeping bag. We can share it.”

Leo’s quiet for a second. When Vincent looks over, he’s giving him a funny look that he can’t quite place; somewhere between suspicious and hesitant.

“You want to sleep in the same sleeping bag.”

“I don’t _want_ to,” Vincent snaps, exasperated. “But I’m not sleeping on the bare ground, so unless _you_ want to, then we share. Final offer, take it or leave it.”

Leo stares into the wavering flames of their campfire for a moment. His body language is cagey, and Vincent worries for a split second if he’s crossed some sort of unacknowledged line.

Then Leo snorts, shakes his head, cocks a brow at Vincent with that stupid look on his face that makes annoyance rise in Vincent’s chest.

“No, thanks,” he says, the usual mocking lilt back in his voice. “Sorry Vince, but I’m not looking to be your own personal teddy bear.”

Vincent’s face flushes hot from anger and _nothing else_.

“Fine,” he grits out, turning away from Leo. “Don’t come crying when your ass is frozen to the ground tomorrow.”

He can practically hear Leo roll his eyes.

“Please,” he scoffs. “I don’t know about you, but I can handle the weather. It’s not like it’s gonna be that cold.”

It is that cold.

Vincent can feel it even with the sleeping bag, the almost damp chill of the season seeping into his bones. There’s a slight wind as well; not enough to be an issue, but enough to sting his nose and cheeks where they poke out from the top of the sleeping bag. 

He opens his eyes, tired of staring at the back of his eyelids and unable to sleep. He shivers as another cool breeze rustles the leaves around them, and looks to his side.

Leo’s laying a few feet away, leaning back on their bags and turned away from Vincent. He can’t see much through the dark, but it isn’t hard to tell that Leo’s shivering, gripping his arms and curled into a tight ball.

Vincent sighs. He should’ve known that Leo would fight him on this, but part of him had been hesitant to push. Now, seeing him curled in on himself and clearly not asleep, it’s easier to push aside his reservations and call out.

“Hey, Leo?”

Leo jolts, apparently not having noticed that Vincent wasn’t asleep. He rolls over, and Vincent’s stomach pangs with guilt when he can practically see Leo’s teeth chattering.

He unzips the side of the sleeping bag, lifting his arm to hold it open, biting the inside of his cheek as the cold rushes in. Leo eyes him dubiously, obviously struggling.

Vincent grits his teeth in frustration.

“For god’s sake, will you get over yourself already and just get in?”

Surprisingly, Leo hardly protests. He seems to wrestle with himself for a moment, but another breeze blows through the clearing, and that’s all it takes for him to sit up and scoot over.

Vincent holds the flap open as Leo crawls inside; his stomach twists again when he can feel how cold Leo is to the touch. Ignoring the tightness in his gut, he lets the bag fall shut and reaches over Leo to grab the zipper and quickly seal it back up.

It’s decent sized bag, but with two grown men in it at once, there isn’t much space to move around. Leo squirms, putting as many scant inches of space between himself and Vincent as he can. Worried for the seams of the sleeping bag, Vincent huffs and stops him with a firm hand pressed to his chest, stilling him immediately.

“You’re being ridiculous,” he says, voice lower now that they’re this close together. Leo swallows, probably resisting the urge to retort, surprisingly managing to keep his mouth shut for once.

Vincent shuffles as carefully as he can until he’s laying on his side, back pressed against Leo’s arm. Leo seems to get the picture, turning until he’s facing the same way. Vincent can feel his breath tickling the back of his neck and he swallows hard, digging his nails into his palm briefly to distract himself.

“Now go to sleep,” he mutters. Leo doesn’t reply, but as their combined heat starts to warm the inside of the bag, Vincent can feel him relaxing bit by bit. Soon, Leo’s breathing is a deep and steady rhythm against his hair, and despite the unnameable restlessness crawling its way up Vincent’s spine, he manages to close his eyes and drift off.

He doesn’t know how long he’s been out when he’s pulled out of sleep--probably a few hours at most. The sky has lightened slightly, but it’s still far from dawn. He blinks away the sleepy haze, trying to figure out what woke him.

The first thing he notices is that he’s no longer cold, other than his face; the warmth from both him and Leo keeping away the chill. The second thing he notices is that Leo’s shifted in his sleep, his torso against Vincent’s back; face tucked against the nape of his neck; one arm slung loosely over his waist. His legs are barely bent, making him curve ever so slightly around Vincent, one of Leo’s legs nudging between both of his.

The third thing that Vincent notices is that Leo is hard.

The last realization is enough to burn away the fog from his mind, and he bites his tongue as his cheeks heat. It’s not a big deal, he reasons, trying to slow his suddenly racing heart. It happens all the time. There’s no reason to be awkward about it.

And then Leo moves.

It’s very slight at first, so much so that Vincent wouldn’t have noticed if he wasn’t hyper-aware of Leo’s presence; the barest move of Leo’s hips, less than a nudge against his ass. Which would’ve been fine, but then it happens again.

And again.

The movements are firmer now, more deliberate. Vincent’s _positive_ that Leo’s still asleep--there’s no way he would do this otherwise. Still, that almost makes it worse; it means that Leo’s inhibitions are weakened enough that his body is thinking for him, moving to chase the stimulation from his dick rubbing against Vincent.

He’s completely at a loss. On one hand, he could wake Leo up-- _should_ wake Leo up--but that would likely make him bolt, and Vincent had a feeling that it would put a strain on the new, already fragile bond they’ve begun to grow. He could pretend to be asleep; could reach back and pinch Leo’s thigh, then quickly feign unconsciousness and hope that Leo wouldn’t run. Or…

Or, he could let him finish.

A jolt runs through him at the thought, enough to make his hips twitch back involuntarily. Before Vincent has the chance to be embarrassed at his body’s reaction, Leo huffs out a warm breath against his skin, his hips pressing firmer against Vincent’s backside and making him twitch again.

Vincent swallows, struggling with his morality.

The choice is made for him when Leo rolls his hips up, harder than before; shifts his leg where it’s resting between Vincent’s.

Moans.

“Oh god,” Vincent whispers, a rush of air leaving him at the sound. Suddenly he wants to hear more, _needs_ to hear more and, throwing away the last of his inhibitions, he shifts and presses back against Leo.

Grinds.

Another noise chokes its way out of Leo’s throat, and Vincent can feel it reverberating through his skin. Leo starts to roll his hips again, dick hard where it rubs against Vincent through their pants. More sounds come out, quiet little moans and huffs, and Vincent has to bite his cheek to keep from echoing them; just hearing Leo like this is enough to get his own dick twitching in interest, hardening in his jeans.

Then Leo’s leg moves, presses up between Vincent’s thighs; drags over his groin, sending a spark of pleasure through him and making him jerk forward slightly. His hips chase the feeling, and he realizes distantly that he’s starting to grind against Leo’s thigh, eyes squeezing shut and teeth digging into the soft flesh inside his mouth.

Leo’s arm around Vincent’s waist tightens, inadvertently pulling Vincent back against him as he rolls his hips at the same time that he presses his leg up, and Vincent moans.

Immediately, he bites down on his lip hard enough to make his eyes water. It was too loud, louder than Leo’s noises, and he can tell by the way Leo stops and tenses that he’s woken up.

There’s a moment that feels like an eternity of complete silence and stillness. Vincent swears that nothing around them moves except his heart, beating so fast that he thinks it might just jump out of him. Leo’s breathing is quicker, shallow, and before Vincent can think of anything to say he’s moving, squirming away, reaching behind him to feel for the zipper.

Vincent’s stomach clenches--partly anticipating the rush of cold air that opening the bag will bring, partly terrified that Leo’s going to make a run for it. Impulsively, stupidly, he reaches back and clamps a hand around Leo’s wrist. Leo tries to yank it free, but Vincent just tightens his grip until he stops squirming.

“It’s fine,” he says, wincing to himself at how rough his voice is. He clears his throat.

“It’s fine, Leo.”

“I didn’t--I wasn’t--”

“It’s _fine_ ,” Vincent repeats, a sick, heavy feeling starting to form in his gut. “You were asleep, it’s not your fault. I shouldn’t have-- _I’m_ sorry.”

He hears Leo suck in a breath; it whistles faintly through his teeth.

“You--”

“I was awake,” Vincent says quietly, shame and guilt thickening his throat. “The whole time.”

Leo’s stone still behind him. Belatedly realizing that he’s still holding his wrist, Vincent lets go and jerks his arm away, tucking it against his own stomach.

As the seconds tick by, he starts to wish that Leo would do something, _say_ something, even have a go at him or punch him in the gut. When Leo does move again, Vincent flinches--then tenses when Leo’s hand is on his shoulder, pulling him over so he’s laying on his back.

Leo moves at the same time, until Vincent ends up under him, looking up into his eyes. He looks different--all of his usual cockiness and confidence is gone, replaced by a sort of hesitant curiosity. Vincent swallows around the sudden lump in his throat as Leo shuffles over him, straddles his hips. The sleeping bag tugs around his back, presses them closer together in the small space.

“Leo…?”

Leo doesn’t answer; just shakes his head slightly, watching Vincent intently with those dark eyes. He doesn’t look away as he shifts his weight, pressing his hips down experimentally against Vincent.

Ruts his still-hard dick against Vincent’s, making his eyelids flutter and his lips part as he tries to hold Leo’s intense gaze.

As if that had answered an unspoken question, Leo takes a shaky breath and grinds down again, harder. He starts rocking against Vincent, rubbing himself off against him through their pants, and the sight of him is almost more intense than the feeling. Vincent’s hands move to Leo’s hips, slide up to his waist, squeezing firmly as he lifts his hips into the movements, meeting Leo’s thrusts.

A wobbly sound escapes Leo then, and he ducks his head into the crook of Vincent’s neck to hide. Vincent sucks in a breath, moves a hand to Leo’s hair and tugs back gently until Leo’s looking down at him again.

“Don’t be quiet,” he murmurs, and Leo’s mouth falls open a bit as he eyes close.

“Vince…”

“Fuck,” Vincent hisses, the sound of his name in Leo’s voice _like that_ making his hips jerk up of their own accord. Without really thinking, he tightens his hand on Leo’s hip, slowing his movements and slotting his other hand between them, cupping Leo through his jeans.

Leo shivers, legs tensing on either side of Vincent’s, and looks down between them. Vincent watches his face carefully as he squeezes, presses the heel of his hand up to grind against the bulge in Leo’s pants.

“Shit,” Leo whispers, and Vincent has to bite back a groan as Leo’s hips twitch into his hand. He feels a little overwhelmed with all of this--Leo over him like this, making those noises, body responding to Vincent’s touch in a way that makes him want to touch _more_.

“Is it okay if--can I--”

He’s spared from stuttering out the question by Leo’s quick nod. With a bit of maneuvering, he manages to get his pants undone and open enough to shove down low on his hips. He hesitates, meeting Vincent’s eyes again, hand hovering over the waistband of his boxers.

Vincent’s throat feels dry, and his tongue swipes over his lips as he eyes the bulge in Leo’s underwear.

“Go ahead,” he murmurs.

Leo lets out a breath he must’ve been holding, shifting his weight so he can tug his boxers down enough to pull his cock out. It’s rock hard, bobs a little when Leo frees it, and as Vincent watches it twitches, a small bead of liquid gathering at the head.

“Don’t--don’t just stare at it,” Leo grumbles. His face is patchily flushed and his ears are red, and he’s glaring at a spot on the ground instead of looking at Vincent. Despite himself, Vincent feels his lips quirk up into a small smile.

“Sorry,” he whispers. He shuffles, grunts in frustration at the awkward angle, but brings his hand up and wraps his fingers around Leo.

Leo sucks in a breath, and his dick twitches in Vincent’s hand. Vincent just looks at it, slightly wide-eyed; he’s never touched another guy before, but if all of them are as responsive as Leo, then he really should have sooner. Curiously, he taps his thumb against Leo’s slit and tightens his grip slightly.

“Shit--” Leo hisses, head dropping between his shoulders. Vincent has to breathe deeply for a second to compose himself before repeating the action, this time smearing the slick around the head, earning a full-body shiver from Leo.

“If you’re gonna tease,” Leo says through gritted teeth, “then I’ll just do it myself.”

Vincent chuckles, feeling a little awed.

“Sorry,” he says quietly. “It’s just...you’re just so--”

He slips his thumb under the head, rubbing gently under the crown. Leo’s hips jerk, and Vincent laughs breathlessly.

“...sensitive.”

“Fuck you,” Leo hisses, though his voice and legs are trembling.

Vincent doesn’t reply; instead, he tightens his grip and strokes Leo once, twice, long and firm and _slow_. Leo jolts on top of him, making a sound behind his teeth that Vincent can practically feel in his dick.

He starts slow, tries to learn what Leo likes. This is new to him, to both of them probably, but Leo’s beautifully responsive; squirming on his lap, leaning with his forearms on either side of Vincent’s head and trying to muffle his sounds in the damp skin of his neck. He grazes his teeth over it, scrapes them over a pulse point, and Vincent’s hand tightens around him.

“You’re too--fucking slow,” Leo mutters, though he keeps thrusting into every one of Vincent’s movements. 

“Sorry,” Vincent hums, not meaning it in the slightest. Leo huffs.

“At least--”

He brings his hands down to Vincent’s belt, raises his head to look him in the eye. Vincent’s throat tightens, and he gives Leo a shaky nod before draping his arm over his eyes as Leo scrabbles to get it undone, followed by his pants.

He pauses for just a moment before slipping his hand into Vincent’s boxers, and Vincent groans at the first touch against his heated skin. It’s been while, he realizes, made more obvious by how his hips eagerly lift into Leo’s touch as he pulls him out, tucking the waistband under Vincent’s balls as he gives him a few strokes.

“Leo,” he mumbles, uncovering his eyes to look up at him. Leo’s gaze is heated, and he searches Vincent’s face for a moment before leaning down.

Vincent tilts his head in anticipation for when Leo’s lips meet his, and he sighs into his mouth as Leo starts stroking him for real. His hand is rough with callouses, and his movements are jerky and uneven, but it feels incredible nonetheless. Vincent parts his lips at the third swipe of Leo’s tongue, letting him deepen the kiss.

Leo pushes his hips forward, reminding Vincent that he still has a dick in his hand. Getting his head back together, he readjusts his grip and starts stroking Leo steadily, with purpose this time instead of just teasing.

“Vincent,” Leo gasps into his mouth, his lips catching on Vincent’s as he thrusts into his grip. “Fuck, that feels good.”

“Yeah?” Vincent murmurs, bringing his thumb up to circle the head. “You like feeling me stroke you off?”

“Fuck, yes,” Leo groans. His hand jerks around Vincent, and he has to bite back a moan. “Fuck--wanted this, you know.”

Vincent blinks in surprise.

“You did?”

“Yeah,” Leo laughs, breath catching as Vincent rubs over the slit of his dick. “Fuck--thought I was too obvious, thought you were gonna find out.”

“Jesus, Leo,” Vincent mutters. Leo laughs again, but it falls into a whine when Vincent brings his other hand down to tease at his balls.

“Wanted--wanted you to notice,” he mumbles, burying his face in Vincent’s neck, licking and sucking. “Part of me wanted--wanted you to catch me one night, wake up and hear me get--getting off to you.”

“You get off to me?” Vincent asks, the confession sparking heat in his gut. Leo nods; his hair tickles Vincent’s neck.

“Yeah. Keep thinking about you, what you’d do if you heard me saying your name--fuck, Vince, just like that.”

He writhes on Vincent’s lap, the back of his knuckles knocking Vincent’s hand. Getting an idea, Vincent gently pushes Leo’s hand away, ignoring his sound of confusion. He presses one hand to the small of Leo’s back, pushing him down until he catches on, and changes his grip so he’s holding both of them in his hand, slick lengths pressed together.

“Jesus fuck--” Leo swears, and his hips buck hard. Vincent laughs shakily, but groans when Leo’s hand joins his, overlapping slightly, and urges him to start moving.

“What--what else did you think about?” Vincent asks roughly. Leo shakes his head, eyes shut tight.

Vincent reaches up; grabs Leo’s chin just firm enough to make him look down.

“Leo,” he hums, thumbing under the head of Leo’s cock at the same time, making him gasp. “What else do you think about me doing?”

“Cocky bastard,” Leo mutters, but it holds no heat behind it. Vincent waits, stills his hand, making Leo groan in frustration.

“I--I think about--” He sucks his teeth and cuts his gaze off to the side, face and neck flushed. “C’mon Vince, this is embarrassing.”

“Do you want me to stop?” asks Vincent, voice serious.

Leo looks back to him, meeting his eyes. He bites his lip, looks away; swallows hard; looks back at Vincent and shakes his head minutely.

“No,” he whispers.

Vincent presses a soft kiss to his shoulder, wishing they could’ve stripped fully.

“Then tell me--” he tightens his grip and pulls, making Leo gasp and buck against him.

“--What--” he continues, running his thumb over the head and pausing, pressing it just a breath away from the sensitive tip.

“--You think about.”

Leo grits his teeth, but he’s not calling it off--he’s practically shaking, his hand on them both squeezing intermittently.

“Your hands on me,” he says, whisper-quiet. “Your nails down my--my back, spreading me open with your th--fuck!”

Vincent’s moving again, quicker this time. He looks up at Leo, raising an expectant eyebrow.

“And?”

“And--” Leo gasps, then shakes his head as if to clear it, “and--your mouth, on my dick--or in-inside me, _fuck_ Vince, _please_ …”

“Please what?” Vincent murmurs. Leo’s breathing hard through his nose, and Vincent grasps the front of his shirt to tug him down, stopping just shy of a kiss.

“Please what, Leo?” 

Leo groans, squeezes his eyes shut and turns his head to mouth at Vincent’s jaw.

“Just--fuck, Vince, keep going, feels so fucking good…”

“You getting close?” Vincent asks. Leo nods, his hips starting to twitch.

“Close, yeah...Vince please, let--gotta let me--”

Vincent adjusts his grip so his hand is around only Leo, jerking him off quick and dirty. Leo’s mouth is hanging open against his jaw, panting soft sounds into his ear.

“Gonna come for me, Leo?”

“Yeah,” Leo whispers, struggling to form words through his moans, “Gonna come, Vince--please, fuck--fuck, coming--!”

He jerks in Vincent’s lap before going still, tensing all over; Vincent feels come spilling over his knuckles, and he turns his head and kisses Leo to cover up his own desperate moan.

Leo shudders when he comes down, and Vincent lets go when he starts to shy away from overstimulation. As soon as he’s free, Leo’s shimmying down as best as he can, curling up at the foot of the sleeping bag and craning his neck to look up at Vincent.

“Oh, no Leo you don’t have to--”

Vincent’s words are cut off with a low groan as Leo grips him at the base and wraps his lips around him. One hand shoots down to Leo’s hair, fingers scratching lightly at his scalp as he tries not to clench his fist and pull.

It’s shallow and messy and far from perfect, but the heat and slick of Leo’s mouth sends Vincent to the edge fast enough to make his head spin. He tugs at Leo’s hair when he feels it building in his gut, and Leo pulls off and licks around the head while he jacks Vincent off.

Vincent’s hips lift when he comes, and he clenches his teeth around a shout.

He goes boneless when he comes down, eyes closed and panting. He feels Leo move back up, feels a hand on his jaw turning his face, feels the soft press of Leo’s lips against his own. His nose wrinkles when his tongue catches something on Leo’s lips, and he opens his eyes to see that his come is dripping from the lower half of Leo’s face--clinging to his lips, his chin, some on his cheek. His face flushes and he ducks his head to hide it in Leo’s chest, scowling when Leo’s laugh rumbles against him.

“You’re infuriating,” he grumbles.

Leo hums, then rolls over to lay on his back, pulling Vincent to rest his head on his chest. They lay quiet for a few moments; Vincent listening to the thrum of Leo’s heartbeat, Leo running his fingers lightly up and down Vincent’s spine.

“Thanks,” Leo says after a while. Vincent hums in question, opening his eyes and resting his chin on Leo’s chest.

“For what?”

Leo looks down at him, grinning.

“For sharing the sleeping bag.”

Vincent stares up at him for a second--then a laugh bubbles up in his chest and, unable to stop it, he cracks up.

“You’re an idiot,” he laughs, shaking his head. Leo smiles, but it turns to a nervous look after a moment.

“Are we…” he hesitates, hand stilling on Vincent’s back. “Are we okay?”

Vincent purses his lips, looking away. 

“I think so,” he says quietly, hopefully. “I mean, it doesn’t have to be a...a _thing_.”

Leo nods. Then, after a pause:

“ _Can_ it be?”

Vincent looks up at him; Leo’s eyes are hopeful, nervous.

He feels a smile creep onto his face.

“Only if you promise not to dump any more of our stuff into a river.”

Leo grins.

“No promises. Actually--”

He looks down into the sleeping bag with a grimace.

“I think this thing could use a good wash.”

**Author's Note:**

> Part two of _“I wrote this in one sitting simply Because I Could.”_  
> [tumblr](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/redex-writes)


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